Colour Me Happy
by Gilly H
Summary: J/C - Janeway angst


**"Colour Me Happy!"**

by Gill Hoyle

August 1999

  
  
**Setting**: Anytime after the events of "Night". Tsk! So one dysfunctional group hug is a cure for obsessive, manic   
depression in the 24th Century? Yeah, right.  
**Rating**: PG  
**Notes**: It's obvious that Star Trek women of the 24th Century still wear make-up, but we've hardly been allowed to see them actually apply it. Going by the ST: TNG episode "The Host" though, they still have beauty salons and most of the equipment/applicators looked very similar to what we have today.  
**Disclaimer:** Paramount and Viacom own everything except my hardrive. I offered it to them, but they were a bit strapped for cash after Kate and Jeri re-signed for the seventh season :)   
  


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As she lifted the hair-band from around her neck and pushed it into place, her canvas was revealed in the brightly lit mirror ; dry, sallow skin that hadn't enjoyed the warmth or benefits of sunlight in over eighteen months, dull, watery eyes ringed red from all-night reading and thin, bloodless lips pinched even thinner by grim determination and disappointment.   


Quickly averting her eyes, she reached for a small, damp cosmetic sponge and the nearest jar of concealing foundation.   


_*Pure liquid-silk for a fresh, translucent complexion*_

the legend on the label promised. She snorted, softly . On a sixteen year old who spent her days absorbing litres of fresh air, drinking pure spring water and munching tree-fresh fruit - undoubtedly. On a forty-five year old insomniac who breathed five year old recycled air, drank way too much coffee and ate little of anything with nutritional value - unlikely.   


Sighing heavily at the unfairness of it all, she poured some of the pinky-beige gloop into the palm of her hand. It didn't look like much, but she'd learnt how to paint miracles and tell lies with it. Generously coating the tip of the little sponge she looked up and began dabbing 'fresh' and 'translucent' here and there ; skillfully sweeping it into the little indentations on either side of her nose, blending it over her cheeks, forehead, temples, chin, jawline, and lastly, gently smoothing it over her eyelids and around her eyes. When she was finished, she leaned forward a little to check her blending under the lights.   


Perfect.   


Tossing the sponge back onto the dresser, she took a tissue and wiped the liquid residue from her palm as she wondered whether to go for a cream blusher or a powdered one. She decided on powdered 'dusky rose', brushed on and below her cheekbones to highlight them and add a healthy-looking glow that would keep even Chakotay fooled. It took her a few moments to find her blusher brush in all the clutter, but she was soon liberally dusting good health and deceit onto her skin.   


Next, she opened her 'eyes' box. It was full of eyeshadows, mascaras, soft-kohl pencils and soothing eye-drops for those mornings when her eyes were scratchy and sore, or the day just didn't want to start. Days like today.   


A drip to her right eye, a drip to her left, some blinking and her eyes felt a little better. They still looked red around the edges, but she'd learnt how to conceal that, too. Choosing her favourite ivory-cinnamon- nutmeg shadow trio, she loaded a small, broad brush and swept pale, ivory lies just below her eyebrows, following their natural curve to add distracting highlights. Warm cinnamon smudged over her eyelids and blended up and out gave a mysterious, smokey effect that cleverly covered dark shadows and truth. Spiced-nutmeg swirled into the creases blended the whole, adding depth, definition and dishonesty, while choca-mocha kohl slicked under her lower lashes and smudged with a cotton-bud covered a multitude of weepy, sleepless nights. Her piece de resistance though, was soft, white kohl drawn just inside her lower lid. The effect was immediate and startling as the white magically opened-up her eyes, making them look bigger, bluer and brighter.   


A couple of coats of 'touch 'n' curl' navy-black mascara completed the facade.   


Reaching for her coffee, she sipped carefully until the cup was empty. Another cup - her third - would have to wait until she was safely in her Ready room because it was almost time to paint on a smile.   


After a quick dusting of powder to 'set' her foundation, she tugged the hair-band from her head and ran her fingers through her hair to fluff, tease and lift it. Choosing a lip-pen of damask-rose she carefully outlined her lips, going just outside their natural line. Satisfied with the shape, she used a tea-rose shade lipstick to fill-in, blotted once with a tissue, reapplied and finished with a clear, glossy top-coat.   


There.   


Perfect.   


Full, glossy, smiling lips.   


Lips that could wish Tuvok, Harry and Tom a jaunty 'good morning' as she stepped onto the Bridge. Lips that could call a brisk, business-like 'good morning' to B'Elanna in Engineering, Seven in Astrometrics, Neelix in the Mess-hall, and even the Doctor in sick-bay. Lips that could wish Chakotay a slow, teasing 'good morning' as she took her seat beside him.   


Oh, God. Chakotay. What she wouldn't give to have his arms around her... just for a few minutes. Just to be able to close her eyes and lean into him ; to steady herself against his warmth... her nose pressed to the hollow of his throat, her head tucked under his chin as he soothed her, told her that he loved her, that he was never going to let her go, that everything was going to be alright.   


Oh, God. She mustn't cry... she mustn't cry. She didn't have time to start her make-up all over again. And they were waiting for her. They mustn't know, they mustn't even suspect.   


But, Chakotay.... Oh, God how she longed....   


With a monumental effort she pulled herself together, swallowing the self-pity, swallowing the tears, swallowing the pain and the weakness.   


She'd done it so many times before. She could do it again.   


Slipping on her uniform jacket, she took a shakey breath and checked her work one last time before switching off the lights.   


Happy hair. Happy eyes. Happy smile. Happy face.   


Exactly what the crew needed to see after her erratic behaviour in the Void.   


Captain Janeway wouldn't let them down.   
  
  


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The End.   
  
  



End file.
